Epic, Kansas
by hazelmom
Summary: Sam and Dean stumble on a bit of luck that is pure evil.
1. Chapter 1

13

A/N: Hi! I'm an old fanfiction writer, but I didn't know Supernatural until this summer. I have binged 11 seasons in the last two-three months. It's crazy good. I am in a bit of a pickle because I have an unfinished H50 last chapter on a story, and I hated unfinished stories, but I just hate what I'm writing, and so I thought Sam and Dean might jumpstart me to finish that obligation. I've been working this one in my head for at least six weeks, and I know what's supposed to happen. I love both brothers and Castiel. All canon. I created a little space in season 8 for this to happen. I guarantee you don't know where this one is going. I hope you read. Thanks, Sheila

Oh, and dedicated to DNAchemLia who tried to get me to watch this show for like four years.

Epic, Kansas

Chapter 1

Dean turned and gave him another one of his wild grins- one of those balls to the wall, shit eating grins that put all of his wild energy on display. Initially, Sam had tried to ignore him, but Dean was so distracted Sam was worried he was going to wrap Baby around a tree.

"We're getting a hot tub. A big Jacuzzi right in the bunker," Dean said.

"No, we're not."

"Yeah, we are" he said, grinning ear to ear. "A big one. I'm thinking a six or an eight seater. You'll take up three seats all by yourself with those redwoods you call legs."

"I'm not getting into a hot tub with you."

"You and me and a couple of babes. A cooler of beer. Warm jets. You and your babe take off and leave me and my babe to a…well, you know. Don't need to paint you a picture, do I?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Gross, Dean! Seriously. A hot tub is just an enormous petri dish for bacteria."

"What is wrong with you, Dude? This is a gift from the heavens. We won't have to scam credit cards for maybe a year or two if we get a good price on the property."

Sam shrugged and looked out the window.

"Sammy, look at me." Dean prodded his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Sammy. Don't shut down. Tell big daddy Dean what's going on."

Sam sighed. "The whole thing is weird. We don't have this kind of luck. Don't you think this is weird?"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured. "Gift horse. Mouth. Don't look inside. Old man Huddleston remembered what a great kid you were, Sammy, and…you know, maybe he didn't have other family and he thought of you as the son he never had."

Sam shuddered. "I barely remember the guy, Dean."

"Sure you do. You stayed with him twice when Dad and I had a hunt. Damn! You couldn't have been younger than 10 or 11. He had that great spread out in the country with the creek running through it. I remember that. He said it was full of trout. I was so mad that you got to stay there and fish while I had to go off with Dad and troll swamps for Wendigos."

"I stayed with him twice? You sure about that?"

"Yes! First time, it was a few days, and then we brought you again when Dad had that line on a crossroads demon, and he figured it was going to take a few weeks. I remember it because you whined about it the whole ride there. Didn't want to stay with this great guy at his great place. Kept making excuses. Pretended you were sick. I wanted to punch you in the nose. You don't remember that?"

"Well, I remember that you sort of wanted to punch me in the nose like every other day of my entire childhood."

Dean gave him a look. "That didn't stop in childhood, Sammy. Whatever! You made an impression on that old guy, and he put you in the will."

"Dean, the guy disappeared 22 years ago, and they just read a will now?"

"To be fair, they didn't find it until a couple of years ago, and then they called one of Dad's old cells and we didn't find the message for 18 months."

"Dean!"

"Yes!" Dean gripped the wheel. "It's a little weird, but what are we going to do about it!"

Sam chewed his lip. "It doesn't smell like demon. Too much scheming. Can't be Lucifer. Right?"

Dean frowned. "Definitely not."

"It's a trap."

"The monsters we hunt don't do backstory. This is too sophisticated. If it's a vamp or a werewolf, they come out of the bushes with teeth bared. A ghost is tied to an object. They can't go over to a lawyer's office to make up a will to get us to show up."

"It's a trap."

Dean finally let out a huff. "Listen, you whiny little bitch, of course, it's a trap! What's wrong with you? You couldn't let me have five minutes thinking that maybe- just maybe- something decent had happened to the both of us."

Sam shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"Feel like punching you right now in the piehole."

"Well, that must mean it's a Tuesday then."

"We're still going to check it out," Dean said.

"Of course. Why would we go back to the bunker and search the lore? Call our contacts?"

"How many of them are still alive, Sammy?" Dean's glare contained more pain than anger.

Sam flinched and looked away. "There's Cas."

"Oh, right. We'll just ask Mr. Concrete Sequential if he can sniff out a con. Great idea. 'Sides, he's looking for Gadreel."

"Crowley, maybe. This could be him. He's a master manipulator."

"He likes us too much."

"What?" Sam screwed up his face.

"You and I are Crowley's favorite must see TV. He loves watching us and what we'll do next."

"So, he threw us an obstacle."

"He doesn't need to. We find enough trouble on our own. It's not Crowley."

"We're not walking into this old house blind, Dean. We're painting traps, sigils, EMF, the whole nine. You got it?"

"Five minutes. That's all I needed, Sammy, to believe something good happened. Five minutes."

Sam stared out the window a few miles before turning to his brother. "You and I still have a lot of healing to do. Kevin's death…I know you feel responsible, but my hands did the killing. The anger we're carrying aimed at ourselves, the anger we're carrying aimed at each other…"

Dean gripped the steering wheel. "Please don't talk."

"Why? You gonna' hit me in my piehole, Dean?"

"Please! I'm asking. I am begging!"

"People that get close to us die- not just close to you, close to us. We both carry that burden."

Dean wheeled the car off the road onto gravel and hit the brakes hard. Sam grimaced as he slid into the dashboard. "My knees, you asshole!"

Dean turned to him, eyes blazing. "I get it! You're pissed. I stuck an angel in you without permission and he turned out to be a royal dirtbag. I got Kevin killed. I get it! But it was your idea for us to take a minute to breathe before I go after Abbadon. And you promised that we wouldn't dig this up. You promised! I wanted to go alone- leave you time to heal, but you wouldn't let me!"

"I know. I know. But you know that you're hurting too bad to come at this with any kind of a plan!"

Dean jabbed a finger at him. "It's my mess! Plus, Cas says you need more time to heal. The trials should've killed you."

"Yeah," Sam said looking down. "They should've."

Sam's willingness to accept and even welcome his own mortality had always scared Dean, and he turned away for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Sammy, maybe we're just fooling ourselves. I'll take you back to the bunker and you can rest. Only three hours away from here. I'll explore the house and property. I'll take all the precautions, and if it's legit, I'll put it on the market. Then I can get to hunting Abbadon. I just don't think we should be in the same space right now."

"No," Sam said. "I'm here. We do this together. I promised you I wouldn't vomit my feelings. My bad. Sorry, man."

Dean shook his head. "You're apologizing to me?"

"Yeah. Write it down. It's not happening again anytime soon. Let's go check out this piece of land before it gets dark."

…..

"Sammy! We ready to go in?" Dean leaned against Baby's hood and watched the crimson sun slowly begin its descent into the horizon.

"No! Not finished with my devil's traps!" Sam yelled from the back porch.

Dean folded his arms impatiently. The house held a lot of promise. It was a beautiful, old turn of the century farmhouse with a wraparound porch. They'd expected it would be a tear down, but the foundation looked solid, and from the outside, the only glaring issues were a couple of broken windows and peeling paint.

The will stipulated twenty acres from the highway to west of Horner's creek. It was mostly flat land given into prairie grass with thatches of oaks dotted in every direction. He could see a line of trees and tall bushes snaking off about ¼ of a mile behind the house, and he figured that was the creek. He wished he lived the kind of life where he could take a day, grab some of Bobby's fishing equipment, and figure out the trout situation.

"Going to do one more trap on the back porch," Sam called but Dean didn't answer. It was going to be dark by the time his brother was finished, and there would be no way to get a decent look at the interior with only flashlights. Protesting was getting him nowhere and barging past his brother's preparations would probably result with an uppercut to the jaw so he surrendered himself to Sam's preparations.

The cicadas of late summer were in full song and he closed his eyes. He remembered another time when he was here and annoyed with his brother. The house was in good shape back then, but he wasn't at an age where he appreciated it as anything other than a dwelling. As usual, Dad and Sammy were fussing. The kid hadn't hit his growth spurt yet and so he looked even younger than 11 years with his small frame and bushy head of hair. Sammy had a litany of reasons why he couldn't stay with Huddleston, and Dad looked about ready to reach into the backseat and slap him but good. These situations were always hardest on Dean. As angry as he got with Sam for his stubbornness, he also felt fiercely protective, and when Dad got angry like this, all he wanted to do was get Sam out of the way. He didn't remember Dad doing anything more than grabbing Sammy out of the backseat and silently marching him into the house with his backpack.

As he stared at the house, another memory took hold. This kind of fear was different. It wasn't about Dad's anger. It was about the unknown- him sitting in the Impala alone staring at the house and wondering what had gone wrong.

"Everything's in place."

Sam's voice startled him and he blinked. He gestured at the horizon. "Sun's going down. Can't inspect the house with flashlights alone."

"Yeah, I know. There's a town about five miles back. I think it was called Epic. Had a motel and a diner. I think it might've even had a bar. Sounds like your version of paradise."

Dean sighed. "You still don't remember this place?"

Sam grimaced. "Flashes of things. Old man Huddleston seemed nice. I remember that he took me fishing, and I think he made a pretty mean mac n' cheese, but nothing else."

"And you were the wuss that didn't want to stay," Dean said shaking his head. "Do you remember when you stopped answering the phone?"

"What?"

"It was the second time you stayed. Dad and I were working with Bobby on that crossroads demon in Shreveport, and we almost had the thing trapped when you stopped answering your cell phone."

"I don't remember that. I always answered the phone. Both of you always went crazy when I didn't pick up."

"Not this time. You stopped answering the phone. Huddleston did too. Dad was pissed the first day you went dark, but by the second day, he was worried- like bad worried. You know, the kind of worrying where he stopped speaking out loud. We had to let Bobby finish up the case on his own. Dad drove us all night to get back here."

"Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "We got here in the morning, and Dad made me stay in the car. Then he didn't come out after like an hour, and so I went in-"

"Dude," Sam said shaking his head. "This never happened. I would've remembered this."

Dean stared off at the disappearing sun. "It happened, Sammy. I went in, and called out to you and Dad, and Dad appeared at the top of the stairs and told me to get my ass back into the car until he said. He had that tone. I knew he was as serious as a heart attack. I asked him about you and he said you were sick and very contagious."

"I have no memory of this."

"Well, I mean, you were sick."

"With what?"

Dean made a face. "I'm hungry. Didn't you say that Epic had a diner?"

…

"Cincinnati Chili."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "I heard of the stuff, but I'm not into no crazy food. I like my chili best in the states that licensed to make the stuff like Texas and New Mexico."

The waitress was teen-age young with jet black hair that had the blue sheen of a poor dye job. "The burgers are garbage. My dad buys them frozen off the back of a truck and the buns are a week old. Cinncinati chili is the freshest stuff we got. More like spaghetti with a decent meat sauce, loads of cheese, raw onions, oyster crackers, and kidney beans."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "What the hell? What else you got?"

"Breakfast cook don't come in until 4 a.m."

Same sighed. "This could go on all night, people. We'll take two orders."

She turned before Dean could protest and hurried off.

"This better not be crazy food," Dean growled.

"Please. I'm eating it, and you know how I feel about more than 4 oz. of red meat a week."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, why are you always like Miss Florida trying to make weight for the swimsuit competition?"

Sam ignored him. "You seemed lost in thought out at the Huddleston place."

Dean slurped on his straw. "Memories came back to me."

"So, I was contagious with something and Dad made you wait in the car. Couldn't have been much of anything if I don't remember it."

Dean scoffed. "I waited in that hot car for hours. Something on Dad's face scared the piss out of me. I remember that I kept thinking I would barge in, and explain that nobody could handle a sick Sammy like I could. I stole antibiotics for strep at least once a winter for you, but it was clear that Dad wasn't taking prisoners."

Sam leaned forward. "What happened next?"

"Sometime late in the afternoon, Bobby comes rolling in hard and jumps out of the truck. He came at me and threw his keys and a hundred dollar bill into my lap. Told me to take his truck up to his place. I started screaming for answers. He grabbed me by the arm and pushed me at the truck. Repeated the party line. You had pneumonia, maybe, and they didn't want me catching it. Told me to go and wait for a phone call."

"I can't believe you never told me."

"Dude, I think I buried it deep. I get to Bobby's house, and thought screw Dad's rules about no drinking until 16. Found a bottle of Bobby's rotgut, and just kept ordering pizza and drinking cheap whiskey until the money and booze ran out. You all showed up two days later. I was a hungover mess, vomit on the floor, expecting hell and neither Dad nor Bobby said a goddamn thing."

"Was I sick?"

Dean shrugged. "You must've been 'cause you were out of it. Slept for days. I sat with you a lot, and you only woke up long enough to drink broth. Dad, on the other hand, stayed piss drunk for what must have been a month. I don't remember exactly. Bobby got impatient with him, and drove him to a local motel to finish his bender, and then Bobby played daddy with us until you were on your feet."

"I still don't remember it."

"You were sick, idiot."

"It seems fishy."

The girl showed up with heaping plates of spaghetti with brown sauce buried under a mountain of cheddar cheese. They both stared at it for a moment until Dean shrugged and dug in. A couple of bites in, a smile grew. "This crap is solid, man. Who knew?"

Sam showed less enthusiasm, transferring half the cheese onto another plate and brushing the raw onions into a napkin. "Now, it's coming to me. I think I remember something about this. You were really nice to me. Everyone was. Even Dad when he got back."

"What? 'Cause we were usually a bunch of monsters?"

"No," he shook his shaggy head. "It was sort of a kid gloves kind of thing. For a while after that, Dad was always asking me if I was alright and was I having any nightmares?"

"I don't remember that."

"I don't know, man. That's what I remember."

"Pneumonia gives you nightmares?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Who knows what really happened. You know how Dad got after one of his lost weekends. He'd do something cheesy like take us out for pizza and a movie. He'd feel bad for a while. I figured this was one of those times."

Dean shook his head. "How is it that two people who experienced the same childhood can remember things in such different ways?"

"Come on now. I thought we were going to play nice. That was not a dig at Dad," said Sam as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

"I know. My bad," Dean said.

The young waitress grabbed his glass for a refill and he looked up with a smile. "Thanks Sweetie."

She flinched. "I'm not your sweetie. I'm only 16 years old for God's sake!"

Dean threw up his hands as she hurried away. "Can I get nothing right today?"

"I got this." Sam wiped at his mouth and followed her to the drink station. She immediately assumed a defensive posture when she saw him coming. He put up a hand. "Just came to apologize. My brother and I spend a lot of time in diners. He's used to the waitresses who've been doing this for a while, and they have sort of flirty thing they do. It's all part of the back and forth. He didn't mean anything."

She pinched her small mouth together. "I didn't like it."

"We noticed."

She turned away from him and focused on filling the coke.

"Look. We'll probably be back for breakfast. So, just in case you're here, why don't just tell me your name and we won't have any mishaps."

Without turning, she muttered, "I'm June."

He nodded. "Alright. That's a good name, June. My brother is a really good guy and he'd never knowingly show you disrespect."

"Right," she said without conviction. "This mean I don't get a tip?"

"Oh no," he said. "You…uh, gave great service. Good tip coming your way."

She tentatively handed him the drink. "You mind taking this back to him?"

"I got it," Sam said with a smile. He walked it back to the table.

Dean gave him a look. "She's seriously that offended?"

"I don't know. She's sensitive and young…and worried about her tip."

"Just to avoid any future repercussions, she's getting a full 20%."

"That's mighty big of you, Dean."

…..

"You want to watch the game? Red Sox vs. the Twins."

"You watch," Sam said stripping down to his shorts and climbing under the comforter. "I'm exhausted."

Dean nodded. "You still got some healing to do. You mind if I…?"

"Dude, you always watch TV while I'm sleeping. Why would I start caring now?" Sam rolled over and hugged the second pillow like he always did.

….

The old Huddleston place was painted and there was a slide and swings in the front yard. Two little girls were playing on the swings. The older one couldn't have been more than four years old. She had long, golden curls bouncing down her back. The younger one sat in the swing waiting for her sister to push her. She had thick, brown hair that hung over hazel green eyes. She was complaining that the golden haired child wasn't pushing her hard enough. She said she wanted her toes to touch the sky.

Dean sat on the steps to the wraparound porch, his eyes glued to their antics. "Ellen Jo needs a haircut."

A woman came over and holding the railing tightly, lowered her swollen body down next to him. "Ellie's hair is shorter than Mary's. Plus, Mary is the one who wants the haircut."

Dean rested a hand on her pregnant belly. "I love those curls. You sure they gotta go?"

"You wanna start combing her hair in the morning? You've heard the shrieks."

"Okay, then they both get haircuts."

She placed slim fingers over his resting hand. "Yeah. Then Ellie won't look so much like Sam."

She could feel the tension build in his hand but she didn't let go.

"This isn't about Sam."

"Her birthday is next week. You coming?"

"I said I was."

"It's her 3rd, but it'll be the first time you'll be there."

"I'm sorry, Holly. I really am. It's just that…she scares me sometimes."

The blonde woman nodded. "I know. Born on Sam's birthday. Same eyes. Same nose. Same thick hair. But she needs her dad, and she's old enough now that she'll notice if you're not there on her big day."

He swallowed. "I love 'em the same, you know."

"No, you don't. They're different people. You love 'em each just as fierce, but you love 'em different. Mary is the one you don't worry about. You enjoy Mary, but Ellie is the one you watch. You stand in her doorway at night and just stare at her. You know I see you."

"I can't help it."

"I know." She leaned into him and hugged his shoulder. "Just tell me you're happy."

He chuckled. "I slept more when I was a hunter, but I wouldn't trade this for anything."

"Even Sam."

He hesitated and winced. "God no. I gave everything for Sam. I would've died for Sam, but it's still not the same as having your own. I won't let anything happen to my girls. I'll protect all of you with everything in me."

"You miss being a hunter?"

He sighed. "Do we really have to do the same twenty questions every month?"

"It helps me remember that this was the right thing."

"Castiel protects us from all of them, and the truth is that I don't miss the life. I like having a bed and a wife and two and a half little girls. I like being sheriff of the sleepiest county in all of Kansas. I like your mashed potatoes and pot roast and how you make me eat salad with every meal. I like it all, Honey."

"And somehow, without you, the universe is still standing."

He chuckled. "Maybe, the universe is still standing because Sam and I aren't out there anymore. The mistakes we made…it boggles the mind."

She sighed. "Still, I wish he could see his beautiful nieces."

Dean worked his mouth for a moment and his eyes got soft. "I don't, Holly. I really don't. Sam was all heart and good intentions- the way he'd agonize over a decision. You'd think he would've gotten it right more often than he did, but my brother was cursed and that's the truth of it. From the moment Azazel dropped demon blood into his mouth, my brother was cursed to a life of bad outcomes. I mourned his death, but the thing I never expected was the relief. Holly, the relief I feel now that he's gone is huge. A huge cloud lifted when he passed, but I wouldn't have known it if Cas hadn't prevented me from bringing him back. God help me for saying this, but the world is safer without him…and without me putting him before everything else."

"Aw sweetie, I know that's a hard truth for you." She rubbed his middle softly. "I just wish you weren't left with the guilt of it. I know you feel it every time you look at Ellie."

"I'm going to keep her safe. I won't let her be Sam, Holly. I won't let that happen."

She rubbed her huge belly. "You got a name for this little girl yet? She's going to be screaming at us full time in a month."

"Charlie okay for a girl?"

She smiled. "Charlie is a perfect name for a little girl."

Sam sat up in his bed, breathing hard and ragged. He put a hand on his gut to slow himself. Dean was snoring on the bed beside him, still fully dressed and laying on top of the covers as he always did. Sam wiped at sweat on his face before realizing that most of it was coming from his eyes. He covered his mouth to stifle any sounds and got off the bed slowly. There was a table by the window and he sat down at it. A break in the drapes showed a lone streetlight and he focused on it long into the night.

…

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to the handful of people reading. I am taking care with this story, and it will take you to unexpected places. It's all canon. No ships. Can a story like that find readership in this fandom? We're about to find out. Please keep reading and telling me that you are. Sheila

BTW, I said this happened in season 8, but clearly it has to be season 9, I believe.

Epic, Kansas

Chapter 2

"Eat your pancakes, Sammy."

Sam stared out the diner window lost in thought.

"Do you want Dean-o to make little airplane bites and fly them into your mouth like the old days?"

Sam blinked and looked at him. "Huh?"

"What's wrong with you? You were up half the night."

"I was not." Sam turned his eyes to his plate.

"Thought I saw you crying," Dean said watching him closely.

Sam reddened. "Well, you were wrong."

"Nightmare? Abbadon? Kevin? Am I getting warm?"

Sam licked his lips. "It wasn't a nightmare. It was actually a very sweet dream."

"So those were happy tears?"

"Shut up about the crying!" Sam hissed.

"Everything okay?"

They both looked up and saw June staring at them, wearing full goth make up at 8 a.m.

"Uh…hi June. How are you doing today?" Dean attempted.

She scowled. "Need more coffee?"

"Yup. A guy can never get enough," he said with fake cheer.

June grabbed a coffee pot and poured. Dean smiled. "Working the night shift and the day shift. Your dad never heard of child labor laws?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Sam winced. "Just stop trying. Please."

"Chicks dig me. All chicks. Even jailbait."

"Oh God. Please. Stop."

"Okay. Let's go back to the dream."

Sam didn't respond. A blonde woman was walking by and he was staring.

"Sam." Dean waved a hand in front of his eyes. Instead of responding, Sam got up and ran down the aisle and out the door. Dean's eyes widened as his brother took off after the blonde woman crossing the street.

….

Sam caught up to the woman as she inserted a key into the door of the town bar. "Hey!"

She turned, startled. She was pretty with naturally curly blonde hair that she twisted on the stop of her head. "What's going on?"

"Um, I'm Sam. And you are?"

"Trying to open my bar so I can set up for the day," she said with more than a twinge of annoyance.

"Yeah. I see that. Sorry. You look familiar."

She shook her head. "Really? That works for you."

He winced. "Okay. I see what you're thinking, but I'm…just being friendly. Not hitting on you. Seriously."

"I really don't have time for this."

"Okay…um, how about this? I'm gay. Not hitting on you because I…wouldn't. So, it's innocent. Okay? You really look like someone I've met. Can you tell me your name?" The words came tumbling out faster than he could control them.

"You're really not going to give up, are ya?" She opened the door and didn't protest when he followed her into the dark bar. "I don't think we know each other. You look pretty memorable. I think, gay or not, I would've noticed."

He felt his heart beating in his chest. "Is your name Holly?"

She turned and stared at him, mouth open. "Okay…someone in the café told you, right?"

He shook his head.

"Then how did you know?"

"I just do."

She put a hand on the long bar. "That's not good enough. Now, I don't know what you want, but I need you to leave."

He backed up. "I'm scaring you. I'm sorry."

"Then what do you want, Sam?"

Sam seemed lost for a moment and then spotted the door behind her. "That back door! What happened to the top lock?"

Holly gestured. "Meth heads keep breaking in. Happens at least once a month. I got a bolt lock, but I haven't installed it. I'm not good with a drill…why am I telling you this?"

He pointed. "A bolt lock isn't going to be good enough. You need a steel plate on that old wood or they are just going to chip away at it and keep breaking in."

"Okay. Good to know. Thanks. Can you go now?"

"Hey. What's going on here?" Dean sauntered in. "Flirting before breakfast? Not really your style, Sam."

She wheeled around. "What the hell? Who are you? Flirting? He's gay."

Dean's eyes widened. "Right. What's my gay brother doing flirting with a woman when there was a perfectly good looking busboy back at the diner to ogle? Are you switching sides again, buddy?"

Sam gave him a dead stare. "Dean, this is Holly. Holly, this is my brother, Dean. She owns this bar. Look at her back door. It's a mess. People keep breaking in. Meth heads. That's no good. She needs help."

"I didn't say I needed help."

"But you do," Sam insisted. "You need a steel plate on the door and then the bolt lock. You can't keep putting it off. I would help, but I'm not good with carpentry things. But Dean is. He's terrific with drills and the like."

Dean blinked his baby blues, but said nothing.

She shifted between the two men. "I'm telling myself that if you were going to rape or kill me, you would have started in by now. Am I telling myself the right thing?"

Dean cocked his head. "Yeah, Sam, are you done scaring the nice lady?"

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I just want to help. Dean, we should help."

Dean knew enough to know that he didn't have much of a choice. "I'd be happy to look at that door."

She put her hands up. "I'm still a little weirded out by this. How did you know my name?"

Dean looked at Sam and saw his desperation. "I'm sure my brother overheard people in the café talking about your situation…and I'm sure he thought that you wouldn't accept help…you know, pride and such…and he's a socially awkward fella…which is tough for a gay dude. That's for darn sure.

She rolled her eyes at Sam. "So, what's true? Are you even gay?"

"Oh no," Dean said, deadpan. "That is, for sure, true."

Sam blew out air. "I'm not feeling that well."

"I bet staying up half the night and being so recently almost dead isn't helping."

"What?" Holly looked from one to another.

"Oh, he's getting better, but Sam needs rest. It's just that he's got a big heart and he tries to help even when he should be resting. So, how about I take a look at the door and, Sam, you go back to the motel and get a little shut eye."

Relief flooded through Sam. "That's the right plan."

"I'll walk you out." Dean took Sam by the arm and steered him out onto the sidewalk. "What the hell?"

"Please help her."

"Why? Ghosts? Ghouls? Demons? Which is it?"

"She needs help with that back door, and you're the one that has to do it."

"Right. 'Cause gay Sam doesn't do carpentry things. Stereotypes, much? And when did we become the Property Brothers?"

"I know. I'm an idiot."

"You're scaring me, Sam, which I don't like. Plus, we got things we need to do."

"Just help her long enough for me to get some sleep. Okay?"

"How did you know her name?"

Sam's mouth twitched but he said nothing.

"I know you. The wheels in your grapefruit are turning overtime right now, and that isn't always a good thing."

"Just help her."

Dean pointed. "I will but I hate you right now. Stop thinking! Get some sleep but promise me that when you wake up, you'll be normal. Okay?"

Sam let out air and nodded.

….

Dean held up the drill she had in her tool kit. "Is this from the Hello Kitty collection 'cause all its missing is pink flowers on it?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't know. It was in a set I bought. Aren't all drills alike?"

"Right," he drawled. "I got one in the trunk that we'll use."

"Thanks for helping," she said as she leaned against a mop. "I really mean it. You're a gift from heaven. I'd just sort of given in to the notion that the door was going to be swinging wide when I showed up at least once or twice a month. The sheriff is a deadbeat. Doesn't even send out deputies any more when I call."

Dean shook his head as he measured the door. "Tell me something. You seem like a bright girl? How did you think this two lane piece of flatland in the middle of nowhere was going to be a good place for a bar? You know…one that pays the bills."

"I had dreams and a little cash. I figured on one of those gastropubs. People were going to drive 50 miles for grass fed hamburgers and locally grown produce."

"You are a dreamer," he chuckled.

"I am," she said as she brushed a stray curl off her face. "Was going to make homemade ketchup and I was going to can my own pickles. The papers were going to write about this place, and it was going to grow word of mouth."

"How's that going for ya?"

She shrugged. "I've only been open for six months, but my dreams keep needing to be adjusted. What I envision takes more than what I can do by myself. It's a lot of work."

"Yeah. I wouldn't know a thing about it. Mind if I root around in your shed? I think I saw some corrugated sheets that we could use. It would save you some money. Might even look interesting like one of those shabby chic things people pay loads of money on."

"Hey Dean, before you go, it's none of my business, but I was just wondering…is your brother, Sam, okay? You said he was recently sick- almost dead- and he seemed…odd, and you seem worried. Maybe, helping me is not where you ought to be."

Dean stared at the floor and then looked up at her with a grimace masquerading as a smile. "It's nice of you to be concerned but he'll be fine. It's been a rough year, but, honestly, we always seem to be having a rough year. We thought we might have stumbled onto some good luck. The Huddleston place on county road 9 was given to Sam in an inheritance. We're hoping it's a good thing. Hard to know. It usually isn't. Anyway, Sam had a…sort of virus in him. Now, he's…I mean, it's gone, and he's recovering, but he and I need to regain…we're not doing well…trust issues…"

She leaned the mop against a table and stepped forward. "You okay?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I'm rambling. Sorry. I'm okay. I think my brother and I are tired…of so very many things."

"Well, after the door is finished, I'm going to get out some of that grass fed beef that's not getting used, bacon, some locally sourced cheddar, and I'm going to make you the biggest, juciest bacon double cheeseburger you ever saw."

This time the smile on his face was real. "Hell, shit, and damn! That's about the best thing you could've said to me. Let me go get my drill."

….

He stood at her doorway letting in just enough light to give her sleeping form definition. She loved her blankets, and was always both hugging and tangled in them, no matter the season. Dean felt his greatest sense of peace in these moments. He almost felt like he could control her destiny.

Her dark hair still looked shaggy despite the haircut he'd insisted upon. Her nose was all Sam: A cute, pert triangle she wrinkled regularly to express both her displeasure and excitement.

Holly slid her arm around his back. "You did good today. She had her daddy for her birthday."

He let out air. "It was…okay."

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I can smell how okay it is."

"Sorry," he said giving her a boozy smile. "It was the best I could do."

"I know. I want to fuss, but I can't. You were there for every moment of her big day."

"She had fun, didn't she?"

"She did," Holly smiled. "Everyone did. Even Cass, I think."

He shook his head. "90 degrees and he's standing there in our front yard in that trench coat. My deputies always think he's hiding a shotgun underneath."

"He ate 17 bratwurst. Luckily, it wasn't my first rodeo with Cass so I stocked with freezer with provisions."

"He gave Ellen Jo a protection spell for her birthday. She just squinted up at him while he performed it, and then she gave him a hug. It was almost like she understood."

"No," Holly shook her head. "Don't do that, Dean. Our baby is just a girl. She's not cursed. She's not a demon. She's not destined to be anything other than a bright, beautiful woman."

Dean nodded and pulled a flask from his front pocket. Holly sighed and shook her head, but it wasn't enough to keep him from taking a healthy swig.

"Cass is waiting for you downstairs."

Dean's upper lip twitched. "Tell him to get the hell off my property. Party's over."

"He wants to take you."

"No," he hissed.

"Dean, you know I love you, but you can be such a rigid bastard sometimes. It's been five years. Cass wants to go with you to pay respects this year, and you're going to let him do it. You hear me?"

He shook his head but said nothing.

"He doesn't need you to be civil. For Christ sakes, he wouldn't know what to do if you were civil. Just go with him. He wants to pay his respects. Sam was his friend and he loved him. He misses him too."

…..

"Wake up, Sam."

Sam sat up, blinking and breathing hard. Dean had thrown open the drapes.

"What the hell? What time is it?"

"2 in the frickin' afternoon. Enough! I played handyman all morning!"

Sam ran fingers through his hair. "Where's Cass?"

"Cass? What do you mean? Is Cass here? Why isn't he hunting Gadreel? Why didn't you call me?"

Sam frowned for a moment, and then reached for a shirt. "Cass isn't here. I don't know why I said that."

"You're saying a lot of things that make no sense. Maybe, we should call Cass. You maybe got a little bit of grace stuck in the corner of your grapefruit."

"No! I'm fine, Dean."

"You having dreams, Sam or are you having visions? Is that how you knew about pretty Holly?"

"Jumping in the shower now," Sam said as he slammed the door to the bathroom.

Dean grabbed one of Sam's shoes and threw it at the door. "You can't hide from me, Sammy!"

…

"Wow! This house looks better than I thought. I mean, it's dusty and could use paint, but its seems really solid," Sam said as he walked through the living room.

"You dreamt this?" Dean said tightly as he followed. "I marry the blonde barkeep in town, and we have three girls? And I retire from hunting and become the sheriff of this charming little dustbowl? And, despite all of that, I am not trying to kill myself. You claim I am actually happy?"

"Yup. That's about it." Sam ignored his brother's potent energy and headed for the kitchen. "Look at these cabinets in here. Beautiful woodwork. I think you and Holly are really going to like this."

"I'm going to kill ya', Sam. I swear to God!"

"I don't think it goes down that way."

"Where are you in this dream?"

Sam took a breath. "I'm…fine. I'm still a hunter, but…I hunt alone. I was in the dream about your middle daughter's birthday party. She looks like me."

"Poor child."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean stood in the doorway to the kitchen and shook his head. "It's just a dream, Sam. You're still recovering, and that's why I know it's a dream. We both know I don't leave you to shack up with a blonde to have a pile of rugrats and play nursemaid over a stretch of flatland."

"I knew her name."

"You heard it in the diner. Sub-conscious, Freud shit that neither I nor you understand. You had a pretty blonde in the dream and then you saw one. Voila! Holly! Case closed. Let's not talk about it again."

"As you recall, I didn't want to talk about it in the first place."

"You check the upstairs. I'll check the foundation in the basement." Dean gestured harshly.

"Right Boss," Sam said as he headed for the stairs.

"Don't get fresh with me, ya' little freak! No more dreams!"

Sam ignored him. Dean acted strong, but there was a threshold to what he could handle. The moment he started barking was the moment that Sam knew Dean was ice skating near open water signs. Sam felt for him. Dean was incapable of putting himself first, and Sam hated to add to his burden despite all the recent bullshit he'd pulled with planting Gadreel like a tulip in his gut. So he swallowed his annoyance and said nothing.

The upstairs opened into an open space with bedrooms jutting out in every direction. The bathroom needed major updates, but he admired the original claw foot tub sitting in it. Only one door on the second floor was closed and he pulled at it, but it wouldn't yield. Sam could splinter a door without a thought, but there was no reason to gank a perfectly good door because the hinges needed oiling so he left it alone. He stopped at one of the bedrooms, and felt a jolt of electricity as he touched the doorframe. Suddenly, he could see Ellie's room exactly as it had been in his dream. The little girl stirred in her crib, and then burrowed her face deeper into the blanket in her arms. Sam struggled for air. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was in the middle of forest.

"I talk to Sam by myself," Dean growled. "Don't need you listening in."

"Of course, Dean. It's not a problem. Now that I know where you burned his bones, I can visit whenever I choose."

Dean looked down. "I was mad in the beginning. So mad I could've killed you. Painting sigils around his resting place felt like revenge. Felt good. Kept me from drowning my liver."

"I understand."

"It took me a long time to remember that you cared about him too. I wanted you to bring him back, but I understand that he made you promise to let him go. Seemed like a fool's deal at the time, but my brother believed in mortality in a way that I could never understand."

"It was the only way you would know that you could live without him."

"Seemed like a pretty huge decision just to prove a point."

Cass sighed. "He knew Holly was with child. He said it was a game changer."

"I know he was trying to protect us."

"To be fair, his death was destined and he was ready."

"He was a healthy man strong as an ox in his early 30's. How was that ready?"

"Dean, we have travelled this territory many times. It always ends the same. Sam's wish was to live out his life to its natural conclusion. That's what happened. It was a reasonable request, and I honored it. The results have been good for you and would please him tremendously."

"Does he know? Does he see?"

"I'm not at liberty to share the details of his afterlife- also, part of the deal."

Dean closed his eyes. "Probably means he's playing drop the soap with Lucifer in the cage. Peace of mind, Cass! Why is that so frickin' hard for you?"

"He is not playing a soap game with Lucifer. I will share that much."

"Why does Ellie look and act like him so much? Please tell me it's a cruel genetic joke. Please tell me that her future is normal."

Cass raised his arms. "I have no reason to believe otherwise. Her genetics aren't cruel. They are a blessing from God. A wonderful way to remember a beautiful man. Enjoy her. She is the best of the Winchester lineage."

"Promise me, she won't become a giant. Not a good look on a girl, you know."

"Don't worry, Dean."

"And Mary? Should I worry about her? Maybe, Ellie's resemblance is a distraction and its Mary who bears a curse."

"No. You staked out both of their bedrooms the first year of their lives. No one is cursed. Mary is just more Holly than Winchester. She too is a beautiful child. As will be Charlie."

Dean relaxed. "I appreciate all you do to keep them safe."

"They will have normal childhoods, normal illnesses, and normal destinies. That is what I will offer. No stepping in if something tragic occurs."

"Does it?"

"Of course. Tragedy occurs in every human life. It is not your place to know how to sidestep them all. With life comes death. The circle must be honored."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just give me a few minutes to fuss at my brother about dying even though it has given me many blessings, and then you can take me back home."

Cass nodded. "As you wish."

….

Sam blinked and found himself sitting in the doorway, breathing hard. He touched it again and felt the same energy. "Ellie's room," he whispered.

"What did you say and what are you doing on the floor?"

He turned to see Dean behind him. "Said that it was a helluva room. Built ins. Love 'em."

Dean scanned the room and frowned. "Looks okay. Did you dream? Is that why you are on the floor?"

"Just checking the floorboards. Thought I heard mice." Sam said scrambling to his feet.

"Idjit liar," Dean growled. He strode over to the closed door and tugged. It didn't budge. "What the hell?"

"Don't break it, Dean. Let's oil the hinges. No need to wreck the place. How's the foundation?"

"This relic is livable if you can believe that."

"Nice."

"Just need to get an appraisal and put it on the market."

Sam shrugged. "No hurry."

Dean gave him a sideways glance. "Yesterday, you were sure this was a trap. Now, you want to keep the place?"

"It's starting to look like a blessing."

He shook his head. "Please find a way to be Sam again. I am begging you."

"I am me. I mean it. I know you're nervous and you're feeling Kevin's death on multiple levels, but don't pile all that wrong on my shoulders. I'm getting better. We just got to take life as it comes."

Sam started down the stairs and Dean stared at him long after he was gone.

….

TBC


End file.
